


shadows are blossoming

by allourheroes



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5233649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick thinks he's going to die out there in the desert until the shadow comes over him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shadows are blossoming

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty certain this was for the same person as the last one, but I wrote this ages ago, when she was an anon to me. Since I posted the other, I decided I should put this one up on here, too, for the sake of fairness. The title for this comes from the same song--"This Weather" by Patrick Wolf. Mythology and fairytale tend to mix in my mind, but this one was _supposed_ to be the former.

Stumbling through the sand, Dick Grayson is not certain of his fate. He has time yet, yes, but how much? The desert sun unforgiving and his thirst unquenchable… His odds are not good.

There is no water to be found, none with him. As far as his eyes can see, there is only sand, sky, and glaring brightness.

There seems to be movement, a dark shape watching him―a mirage brought on by his failing faculties―and he wants to call out, if only to preserve the illusion. His throat sticks and he can’t quite piece words together. Perhaps this makes a sound, enough to make his vision pause.

The dark shape draws closer and although the edges are blurry, imprecise and wavering, shimmering, Dick is given the impression of a young man.

Dick takes a step forward, staggers, falls to his hands and knees.

The shade hovers over him and Dick feels that he is being somehow assessed, although he does not know why. Isn’t this all in his head? Is he having some sort of religious experience? It seems ridiculous, but he can’t deny the presence.

Dick thinks he hears someone ask what he’s doing out here, but it’s another impression, not necessarily those words.

_Help_ and _please_ and _are you real_ and _am I going crazy_ all crowd into his thoughts and the being seems to make a dismissive sound. Dick almost wants to laugh.

_Who_ , he thinks and he hears _Damian_ in response.

The entity―Damian?―touches him, covers him, and a shiver courses through Dick Grayson’s body, leaves him quite suddenly cool and clean and refreshed in the desert. It’s too much.

He blacks out.

When Dick awakens, there is a boy―no, a _man_ , although younger than himself―seated across from him. The young man has dark hair and skin a deep bronze. His eyes though― His eyes are a piercing blue, so blue that Dick can see them from across the room. They’re in some kind of structure, maybe a house?

Dick is uncertain where he is or who this person might be, but he feels safe enough. There is tension in the air though, something he can’t define.

Sitting up, he tries to gauge the situation. “Hi,” he manages with a smile, hopes he is understood.

“What are you doing out here?” the man asks. There is no particular accent to the words and Dick finds this somewhat strange. “Out there?”

“It’s a long story, I―” He stops, thoughts coalescing into something more coherent. “Are you the one that found me?” The man does not answer, rather glancing away, and Dick knows. “ _Thank you_ ,” he emphasizes sincerely, making eye contact in the process.

The man looks away again. “You would’ve died.”

“Yeah,” Dick agrees, scratching the back of his head. “I would’ve.” He stares at his hands a moment. There’s something itching in his mind, a memory trying to break through to the surface.

“Perhaps I should’ve let you.”

It clicks, suddenly. “Damian,” Dick says, then backtracks. “Is that your name?” The thing that he had seen out there in the desert hadn’t looked like this, had it? It feels right though. The presence… It feels the same.

“Yes,” the man replies, rolling his eyes as if it should’ve been obvious.

Dick laughs then, like he had wanted to before. “Dick Grayson,” he says, offering his hand.

Damian eyes it warily. “I know,” he says.

When it seems as though Damian does not understand the gesture, Dick almost pulls away, but then Damian’s hand is tentatively reaching out towards his.

The hand touches his own and Dick is freezing or burning or perhaps being electrocuted and yet it is not altogether unpleasant. In fact, it’s rather the opposite.

“Whoa.” The utterance comes only when Damian has pulled back, only when Dick falls back into his own existence again. “Are you…” _What are you?_

Damian stares at his own hand for a moment. “It doesn’t matter,” he tells Dick, and it sounds almost haughty, defensive.

“Wait. What doesn’t matter? Damian―” Dick starts towards him.

“Grayson,” Damian warns. “You should leave.”

Dick knows he should agree, but he can’t. “Where would I go?” he asks instead. He doesn’t add the feeling that he has, the one telling him he _shouldn’t_ go, shouldn’t leave Damian even though he doesn’t even _know_ him.

“My grandfather will be angry,” Damian says, but he looks uncertain, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Dick should stop himself―really, he should―but he approaches Damian, his fingertips brush the back of Damian’s hand and there is that surge again, that― That unexplainable force that crashes through him.

“Go,” Damian says, but it sounds weak. It sounds like a lie.

Dick shakes his head, adjusting to the energy thrilling in him. He shakes his head again. “No.”

“But―”

“Damian.”

Damian stares at him a long while and Dick thinks his eyes look almost _electric_ now. He can almost see that shimmering mirage from the desert watching him again.

Dick Grayson waits.

Damian turns his hand, tangles his fingers with Dick’s. “I will protect you.”

The words surround them.


End file.
